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18 November 2012 | Category: Stories | Author: Clare

What are we supposed to do with loneliness?

Do we scrape it altogether, bundle it up, swallow it.  Try to fill the emptiness that creates that uncomfortable echo in your stomach.

What do we do with regret? Do we stand on it, stamp on it, turn away from it as if sunshine on a bright day, fearing it will illuminate the tears in our soul.

How do you learn to forgive yourself?

Does time eventually nullify those painful memories, or do we shut parts of ourself down. And if we do, do we live in an increasingly small place in our hearts, surrounded by boxes we cannot open? Eventually so tormented by their proximity that we either loose our minds, or stop living in our hearts at all.

Is that what getting older is? The ultimate demise of passionate living, replaced by a safer and more reasoned approach to life. Devoid of risk or emotion, at least in uncontrolled doses.

I am terrified of loosing little pieces of myself in boxes I cannot open, so that one day there is just nothing left of me at all.

And when we die, who excavates our hearts? Who goes through the boxes to pick out the valuable or sentimental items. Are we, and all of our heartache simply lost forever.

Incredibly sad.

Comments for: Life

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Sabrina | Date: 6 March 2012 08:54:44 PM

"Life is a test. It is only a test. Had this been a real life you would have been instructed where to go and what to do". ;)

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